Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place
by London Slattery
Summary: Chapter 10 updated! After Jack's affair with Sam Spade, Maria filed for divorce and left NYC, taking their daughters with her. Ten years later, they meet up with Jack again. WIP
1. Chapter One

Title: Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Assuming that everyone knows about Jack's relationship with Sam, then none really as of now.  
  
Summary: This story is focused on Jack's estranged relationship with his daughters, Hanna, and Katie. After Jack's affair with Samantha Spade, which broke up his marriage, Marie filed for divorce, and left New York City, taking Hanna and Kate with her. Aside from the annual birthday and Christmas cards, neither girl has had any real communication or contact with their father since they left New York.  
  
Notes: The setting for this story is ten years into the future, with Kate being 16, and Hanna being 18. I wasn't sure of their ages on the show, so if these aren't accurate, let me know and I will change them (and be grateful forever). As for content...well, you can judge that for yourselves. And VERY SPECIAL THANKS to Fastdancr for setting me straight on which daughter is older!  
  
Disclaimers: I do not own any rights of any sort about any person, place, or thing that I write about. Also, this doesn't follow with certain events from the actual TV show's timeline. But it's just a fic, so isn't that to be expected? ;)  
  
***  
  
Jack Malone reached into his mailbox, pulling out the bundle that had been piling up for the past three days. It had been one hell of a week, so busy that even small, simple things like taking in the mail or doing laundry had been forgotten or overlooked. Jack was tired and looking forward to taking a hot shower, sifting through his mail, and going to bed.  
  
Climbing the three flights of stairs to his empty two-bedroom apartment, Jack grunted as he finally reached his floor, winded from the walk. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead and brushing back his thick greying hair. Jack managed to catch a glimpse of his worn reflection as he passed by a window during his trek to his apartment. Sighing, he realized that he could use another touch-up, and made a mental note to pick up another box of "Just for Men" on his next shopping trip.  
  
"Whenever that will be," Jack sighed, unlocking his door and stepping inside, trying to forget about the pending cases waiting for him back at the office. His back ached from sitting in his stiff office chair, his feet were swollen from all the pacing he had done that day, and his heart was heavy from the news he had received that morning.  
  
"Samantha Spade..." Jack murmured, forgetting the mail as he pulled out the small, white envelope that had been sitting on his desk for him when he came back from lunch that day. It was a wedding invitation. Her wedding invitation. Jack reread the invitation aloud as he loosened his tie and fell into a chair.  
  
"You are cordially invited to the union of Sergeant Emmanuel Dennis Finger and Samantha Spade, on the morning of July the fourth, two-thousand and twelve," he recited, groaning as he got up from his chair and went into his kitchen, pulling down a small shot glass from the cabinet and reaching for a dark glass bottle.  
  
"Who the hell marries some guy named after a goddamned body part?" Jack grunted, pouring himself some scotch, a small knot forming in his stomach. He downed the glass with one swig, old emotions stirring around inside of him. Sure, at one time he had loved Samantha, but when she had split up his marriage, only to get cold feet once they had the actual opportunity to pursue something other than a work-related relationship, Samantha had asked to be transferred, finally breaking it off with Jack, calling their time together a "mistake that would haunt her entire career."  
  
"And what about my career?" Jack asked aloud, pouring another drink, this one to nurse, and going to sit down at his kitchen table. He had argued about their relationship with himself many, many times, and after a week as horrendous as his past week had been, Jack didn't feel like being schizophrenic that night.  
  
Thumbing through his mail, Jack's eyes rested on an official-looking envelope that was postmarked from Rochester, New York. The small knot in his stomach was slowly growing to the size of a soccer ball. After his divorce, Jack's ex-wife Maria had won full custody of their daughters, Kate and Hanna, and moved from New York City to Rochester. The move was very sudden, and Maria hadn't been joking when she had told the judge that she would not allow Jack visitation rights to their daughters. Jack sighed, remembering the then on-going investigation from the Office of Professional Responsibility, which was more than enough to convince any judge that he was not worthy of visitation rights.  
  
Tearing the envelope, Jack wondered what this could be about. "She probably remembered that I still have her grandmother's china," Jack grumbled, expecting something of that sort. But nothing could have prepared Jack for what he was about to read. 


	2. Chapter Two

Jack pulled out his reading glasses, removed the creased white paper from the torn envelope, and began reading. Scanning the return address in the upper-right corner, Jack was not surprised to see that the letter was from a Mr. Charles Mahoney, his ex-wife's Rochester lawyer.  
  
"Dear Mister Malone," Jack began aloud, "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but your ex-wife Maria has suddenly..." Jack's eyes widened. "...Passed away at the age of forty-eight, due to a massive heart attack." Jack re-read the first line, the realization hitting him hard in his solar plexus. Putting the letter down, Jack stood up and began pacing around his kitchen, his scotch forgotten.  
  
"Dead?" Jack murmured. "She's younger than I am..." Jack continued pacing, until another, more powerful thought made its way into his mind, sending him straight back to his chair, frantically picking up the letter. What about Hanna and Kate?  
  
"As unlikely as it may seem, she did leave you something in her will. The reading of the will is going to take place May seventeenth—" Jack looked over at the faded wall calendar on his fridge, double checking that day's date—the eleventh of May. "In addition," Jack finished, "Your daughters, Kate and Hanna, will be present for the reading, too. Regards, Charles Quincy Mahoney."  
  
Stunned, Jack headed towards his bedroom, still holding the letter in his hand. He set it on his bed, as if it were made of the most fragile glass and precious crystal, and began his nightly ritual of undressing.  
  
Jack unbuttoned his shirt, tossing both that and his tie onto the floor. He began to pull his undershirt over his head, but paused, his arms frozen over his head. Instinctually, he went over to his dresser, pulling open the second-from-the-bottom drawer, and pulled out an old album. When Maria had kicked him out their home months before the divorce, Jack had managed to put together a crude, makeshift photo album from the doubles he knew Maria had kept in an old shoebox stored the bottom of their bedroom closet. That photo album was the one and only physical memory that Jack had left from his old life.  
  
Settling on the edge of his creaky bed, Jack stared in awe at what had once been his life. Maria, when they had first begun dating. Jack and Maria just days before their engagement. Jack and Maria at their wedding brunch. Maria pregnant with their oldest child, Hanna. Maria in the hospital with Jack and Hanna. Hanna's first birthday. Jack, Maria pregnant a second time, and Hanna at the park. Hanna's first steps. Maria, Hanna, and newborn Kate, in her christening gown. Hanna's first day of school. Kate's first steps. Jack and Maria at their fifth wedding anniversary party.  
  
The pictures continued up to Hanna and Kate's school pictures, Kate in first grade, and Hanna in third, the last pictures Jack had of his daughters. Sighing, he closed the album and rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his palms together and resting his hands against his mouth. What was he trying to suppress? Tears of regret and remorse? Screams of anger and misunderstanding? Laughter for what had once been? Jack swallowed hard and closed his eyes.  
  
"Too much..." Jack murmured, rubbing his dry eyes with his the heels of his hands. "Too much," he repeated and abruptly stood up, briskly pulling off his undershirt, and removing his belt. "You know," Jack began while shaking his head, a sardonic smile appearing on his aged face, "You sure picked one hell of a week to spring all this shit on me at once," he finished, commenting to any deity that might be listening.  
  
And with that, Jack finished undressing and retired to the shower to finish his day. 


	3. Chapter Three

The next six days, action-packed as they were, dragged for Jack. He kept his news of Maria's death from the other agents around the office, and he missed the services held for her, as well. Out of six pending missing person cases, four had been solved with the people recovered, one was closed when the victim was found dead, and the last one was nearly wrapped up.  
  
Jack had been keeping as busy as he possibly could, pulling fourteen, sometimes sixteen hour days, working straight from eight o'clock in the morning until twelve o'clock at night. The chatter around the office, when cases weren't being discussed, pertained to Samantha and her husband-to-be, which was a nice distraction for Jack. By the time Wednesday night rolled around, it was more than sufficient to say that Jack was exhausted.  
  
The late-night flight left from New York around quarter to nine, and arrived in Rochester at approximately eleven-thirty that same night. Jack had made arrangements to stay at a hotel nearby the airport, and close to the heart of the city, where Charles Mahoney's office was located. His bags were packed before he left for work on Wednesday morning, thus allowing him to leave straight for the airport.  
  
Around quarter to eight, Jack was closing a case folder and grabbing his coat, when Vivian Johnson suddenly came knocking on the door to his office.  
  
"Come in," Jack gruffly called out, pulling his coat on, one arm at a time.  
  
Vivian stepped in, a look of concern in her eyes, small wrinkles set in her coffee colored skin.  
  
"Jack," she began, stepping over to his desk, her eyes never leaving his, but Jack held up a hand before she could continue.  
  
"Viv, if this is about the Peterson case—" but he was sharply cut off.  
  
"No, this isn't even work-related, Jack," Vivian firmly said, folding her arms. "I'm concerned about you," she began, her voice softening several levels. "You haven't been the same for the past week, Jack. Not since Agent Spade sent out her wedding invites." Vivian took a breath, waiting to see if Jack had a response, but his dark eyes avoided hers, and he simply glanced at his wrist watch for a reply. Sighing, Vivian continued.  
  
"Jack, if you need to talk—" but this time it was Jack who cut her off.  
  
"Vivian, I appreciate the concern, but you know Sam and I broke it off almost ten years ago. It was over then, it has been over since, and the invite, if anything, should solidify that it remains over. Forever."  
  
"And does that bother you?" Vivian inquired, leaning forward on Jack's desk with both hands.  
  
"No, it doesn't bother me," Jack hotly replied, his face getting a bit flushed. "It didn't bother me then, so why the hell should it suddenly bother me now?"  
  
Vivian gave Jack a long look before she replied.  
  
"Alright, Jack, if you say you're fine with everything, then I'll believe you. Just one question," Vivian finished, her hands moving from his desk back onto her hips. Jack watched her eyes narrow as he nodded, allowing her to proceed with her final question.  
  
"Why are you going on a week's leave?" Vivian asked, rather bluntly.  
  
Jack blinked several times, allowing her question to sink in.  
  
"Since when is that your business?" a flustered Jack demanded.  
  
"It was just a question, Jack. I mean, a workaholic like yourself?" Vivian sighed, shaking her head. "It's out of character, Jack. You, more than anyone, should know that we would've picked up on that—"  
  
"We?" Jack interrupted, looking sharply at Vivian. "Oh, so now I'm everyone's favorite piece of gossip?"  
  
Vivian reached a hand out to Jack's shoulder, which he roughly shook off.  
  
"Jack, we're concerned. That's all," Vivian finished, a pleading look in her sensible eyes.  
  
Sighing, Jack realized that he was going to have to lie to Vivian, unless he wanted it spread around about Maria, which, of course, would only and inevitably lead to more gossip.  
  
"Look," Jack began, "I'll level with you, Viv. You're all right; things aren't the easiest for me right now. But it's not what you think. I need some time to relax from—" Jack motioned around the office, "—all of this. The work, the stress, the fear, the desperation. And after the week we had last week," Jack said, lowering his voice, "I'll bet we could all use a vacation. Viv," Jack searched into her eyes, a somersault turning slowly in his stomach as he realized he needed to catch his plane in less than an hour. "Viv, this place is getting to me, and I'm this close, THIS close to leaving and never looking back. All those sick days I've never taken, all the paid time that's been building up...I need to relax," Jack finished, hoping that his spiel would shut her up so he could go catch his plane.  
  
Much to his relief, Vivian nodded sympathetically, patting his shoulder.  
  
"I hear you, Jack," was all she said, before turning around and heading back into the main office. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, double checked to make sure his plane ticket was in his coat pocket, and headed out the door, straight to his car. 


	4. Chapter Four

Jack was dreaming about death.  
  
"Agent Malone, we're counting on you," came the cry from terrified parents.  
  
"Jack, I thought you loved me," came the haunting sobs from Maria's mouth.  
  
"I just can't do this anymore, Jack," Samantha's words echoed through the dream.  
  
"Daddy, why is mommy crying?" six-year-old Kate asked.  
  
"What did you do?" came Hanna's accusing eight-year-old voice.  
  
"She's dead," Agent Fitzgerald said, his voice breaking.  
  
Voices and images floated around Jack's head as he flew across New York State, catching a two-hour catnap. He dreamt of death; the death of people, places, and relationships. He dreamt of the death of losing someone close to him, someone whom he had deeply cared for. And when the crackling of the flight attendant announcing the arrival in Rochester came over the loudspeaker, Jack awoke, feeling worse than he had before he gone to sleep.  
  
Rotating his head around his neck, attempting to loosen up the muscles, Jack realized with a sudden start that in less than twelve hours, he'd be seeing his daughters again. He couldn't even begin to fathom what they were like now. Jack fastened his seatbelt for their landing, wondering about anything and everything he could, ranging from if Kate still liked to draw to if Hanna still held such a vendetta against him.  
  
"Flight one-twenty-nine to Rochester is now landing. Our touchdown time is eleven thirty-three pm. We hope you enjoyed your flight, and thank you all for flying American Airlines."  
  
Jack rubbed his eyes, looking forward to getting to the hotel for some real rest. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jack stood up, stretching again, and grabbed his overnight carry-on bag from the rack overhead. Making his way to the front of the plane, Jack's mind was still racing, and he was feeling a bit light-headed and overwhelmed from all the questions that kept popping into his mind. How would his girls even react to seeing him after all these years? Sure, he still sent them birthday cards and Christmas gifts, but not once had he received anything from them. No letters, no cards, no phone calls, nothing.  
  
Stepping through the automatic doors, Jack was immediately hit by cool late- evening air. Jack inhaled, relieved to be away from the stuffy plane, and stepped to the curb, raising his hand to signal for a taxi.  
  
"Taxi!" he shouted, stepping off the curb and into the street as one pulled up next to him. Jack pulled open the door and slid inside, setting his carry-on next to him. "The Comfort Inn Central, please."  
  
The taxi driver gave Jack a strange look, and then pointed to a small shuttle that was waiting at the curb.  
  
"Why don't you take the shuttle?" the driver asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Shuttle?" Jack asked, confused. "What, there's a shuttle?"  
  
The taxi driver pointed to a large building that was directly across from the airport.  
  
"There's your hotel. I could drive you over there and earn a dollar fifty...or," the driver pointed to the shuttle, "You could just take the shuttle."  
  
Jack, feeling like an idiot, thanked the driver, grabbed his bag, and headed towards the small shuttle. The shuttle was packed inside, so Jack was forced to sit next to large, chatty man with breath that could knock over an elephant. Jack gritted his teeth and tried to look uninterested, while his seatmate chit-chatted on about his flight.  
  
"Is this day over yet?" Jack wondered, as the shuttle pulled away from the curb and drove for approximately a minute and a half over to the hotel. Needless to say, Jack was the first person off the shuttle as he made his way over to the front desk.  
  
Before the girl at the desk could even open her mouth, Jack had already thrown his bag up on top of the counter. "Reservations for Malone," Jack said, unzipping his bag and pulling out his wallet.  
  
The girl's smile faltered, and was replaced by an incredulous look. Jack impatiently tapped his foot.  
  
"What's the matter, isn't it there?" Jack demanded, his nerves running raw. He checked the large clock behind the desk, rolling his eyes when he saw that it was ten to twelve already. "Come ON!" Jack began, his impatience taking over. "I don't have all night, sweetheart. Reservation for Malone. It's in there, right? Malone! Jack Malone!"  
  
The girl, as if snapped out a dream, regained her intelligence once again, and began flipping through the reservation book, flustered.  
  
"Y-yes, sir. Right here, sir. I'll just need your credit card..." Jack handed her his card like clockwork before she could even finish, which she swiped and returned to him, her eyes trained downward. Jack signed the book and finished checking in, grabbing his bag and heading towards the elevators. "Thank you, and enjoy your stay at..." the girl's voice trailed off, as her boss walked over to talk to her.  
  
It didn't even hit Jack until he was unlocking his room. The supervisor, when he had walked over towards the front desk, had been saying, "Thanks for staying late, Kate. I really appreciate it."  
  
"SHIT!" Jack dropped his bag down and raced to the elevators, all of which were in use. Grumbling, Jack made his way towards the stairs, running down four flights. He pushed open the door to the lobby and ran towards the front desk. An older man was there now, checking in a young couple with two small children.  
  
"Excuse me!" Jack began, while the man continued helping the couple. He did, however, shoot Jack a bemused look or two. Jack, on the verge of pulling out his gun, began ringing the service bell, over and over and over and over...  
  
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Dingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingding—  
  
The man put his hand over Jack's hand and took the bell away.  
  
"Sir, I'm going to be forced to call the manager if you don't—"  
  
"Call whoever the hell you want to call," Jack snapped, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his FBI i.d. card. The man's eyes widened. "I want to know where the girl who was just working this counter is," Jack demanded.  
  
"Who, Kate? She left about two minutes ago," the man stammered out. "Why do you want to know about he—"  
  
"Just do me a favor and tell me where she is right NOW," Jack said, annunciating the word "now". "Not two minutes ago, not five years ago, but right NOW."  
  
"Uh, if you hurry, you might be able to catch her out in employee parking..." the man said, thinking.  
  
"Which would be..." Jack asked, his fingers impatiently tapping on the desk.  
  
"Go straight through that door," the man began, pointing to a side door that went outside to a parking lot. "Employee parking is just past the first lot out there."  
  
Jack gruffly thanked him, and raced out the door, his coat flying behind him.  
  
"Kate!" Jack called out into the blackness.  
  
He heard a car door slam and an engine start up. Jack followed the sound straight to a small white Aspire. Looking inside, he was blinded by the headlights suddenly turning on. Jack stepped towards the drivers' side door and knocked on the window. Kate was inside. 


	5. Chapter Five

"Could you open the door, please?" Jack asked, knocking on the glass.  
  
Kate rolled down her window, looking at Jack with wide eyes.  
  
"W-what do you want?" she asked. "I...I need to get home...I have homework to finish...a-and..."  
  
Jack thought for a moment before speaking. Did she know who he was? She must have realized...right?  
  
"Well, I just wanted to apologize for how I was, uh, in there," Jack finally said, taking a step away from her car. "Sorry. Go home, get your work done..."  
  
Kate looked up at Jack, blinking. Without another word, she rolled up her window and sped away, tires squealing. Jack flinched, and started back towards the hotel.  
  
"She shouldn't be driving like that..." he muttered. "Kid's gonna give me a heart attack..."  
  
Jack walked back to the hotel, his hands in his pockets, a forlorn expression on his tired face. He stumbled up to his room, this time opting for the elevator, and collapsed on his bed, still in his rumpled suit. Yawning, he managed to pull off his shoes and his tie before he fell into a hard, dreamless sleep.  
  
The next morning, Jack awoke to the sound his cell phone ringing. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he looked over at the alarm clock.  
  
"SHIT!" Jack said. It was after nine already. "Yeah?" Jack answered into his phone, his voice thick with sleep.  
  
"Jack, this is Chuck down at the office...just calling to make sure we're still on for ten. I didn't wake you, did I?" Charles' obnoxious voice only soured Jack's mood more.  
  
"No, you didn't wake me," Jack grunted into the phone, getting up from the bed and opening up his carry-on, pulling out some clean clothing and his shaving kit. "And of course we're still on." Jack began the delicate task of balancing the phone between his head and his shoulder, while trying to shave the opposite side of his face. "I'm getting ready as we speak," Jack finished, just barely avoiding taking a large chunk out of his face, getting by with only a small knick. "Damn," he muttered, grabbing some toilet tissue to blot his face with. "Anything else you care to know, Chuck?" Jack inquired, sarcastic undertones in his voice.  
  
"No, Jackie. Just wanted to make sure you were still coming. Your wife left you quite a chunk in her will," Charles continued.  
  
"Oh?" Jack asked, beginning to shave the other side of his face. Charles was beginning to make his blood boil. No one called him 'Jackie'. "Well, gee, Chuck...you, a respected lawyer, more than anyone, should know that it's illegal to discuss anything like inheritances BEFORE the reading of the will...right...Chucky?"  
  
"I'm not disclosing anything," Charles continued, his tone sickeningly happy. "Just a friendly tip." And with that, Charles hung up.  
  
Jack resisted the strong urge to throw his phone into the toilet and flush several times.  
  
"That fucker..." he cursed, undressing as quickly as he could and jumping into the small shower. The blast of hot water helped to clear Jack's sleep- cluttered mind, and he stepped out of the shower feeling more refreshed than he had in days.  
  
After quickly towel-drying his hair and dressing, Jack grabbed his essentials and headed out the door. 


	6. Chapter Six

Jack, butterflies dancing around his insides, made his way up to the third floor of the executive building in downtown Rochester, where the law office of Mahoney & Thaddeus was located. Stepping into the main office, he was quickly ushered into Charles' private office, located in the back. It was two minutes to ten.  
  
Looking around him, Jack saw Maria's sister, Theresa, and her brother, John, each sitting in a chair. The room was empty otherwise. He smiled and nodded a greeting to each of them. Theresa gave him a tight-lipped smile in return, while John extended his hand.  
  
"Hey, Jack. How've ya been?" John asked, motioning for Jack to sit down next to him.  
  
"Same old, same old," Jack answered, some of his nervousness evaporating. Pressing his fingers together in his usual nervous habit, Jack made idle conversation with his former brother-in-law, keeping the conversation confined to simple things, like his trip and the weather. The girls weren't mentioned, nor was Maria's sudden death.  
  
Finally, at three minutes after ten, the door opened again, and in walked Charles Mahoney, a girl on either side of him and a long, white envelope in his hand. Jack sat up straight in his chair, his eyes on the three as they all sat down, the girls on a small, ugly plaid couch in the corner, Charles at his desk.  
  
"Ahem," Charles began, clearly enjoying the fact that all eyes were trained on him. He pulled open the envelope and took out Maria's will.  
  
The next half hour was spent dividing up Maria's estate to how she planned it; her siblings and children getting fairly equal portions. During the reading, Jack stole several looks at his now-grown daughters.  
  
Kate, who would be sixteen, the same girl whom he had barked at back at the hotel the previous night, was staring out a window, a drawn expression on her fair face. Hanna, who was now eighteen, kept fidgeting, a bored expression playing on her Italian-featured face. Only once had she looked over at Jack, only to see him glance over at her. The two had somewhat of a staring contest; Jack unsure of if to smile, wave, or just look away, Hanna's eyes narrowing in an almost hateful glare towards Jack. Finally, Jack looked away and checked his watch. It was quarter to eleven.  
  
Clearing his throat, as Charles wrapped up the reading of the will, Jack finally decided to interject.  
  
"Um, excuse me," Jack began, his patience thinning out some when he saw the smug look on Charles' fat face.  
  
"Yes, Jack?" Charles asked, the papers still in his hand, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you read through that whole thing, front to back, and I didn't hear my name once." Jack gave Charles a threatening look. Charles shrugged.  
  
"Who said I'm finished yet?" Charles inquired, a cheeky-tone to his voice. Hanna snorted. "You two can leave now," Charles said, motioning for Theresa and John to exit his office. "You can talk to my secretary for the proper forms and paperwork about your inheritances. And you," Charles taunted, looking directly at Jack, "Well, I saved the best for last."  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and waited while Maria's siblings left the room and his daughters took the chairs closer to Charles' cluttered desk.  
  
"Well?" Jack asked. folding his arms.  
  
"What would you say if I told you your inheritance was right here in this room with you?" Charles asked, smiling.  
  
Jack stood up. Charles was too much for him to handle, and he was about to loose his cool. Grabbing Charles by his collar, he pulled him out of his chair, forcing him to his feet. Kate looked like she was about to say something, but Hanna reached out and silenced her sister, her eyes speaking multitudes as she continued giving her father the look of death.  
  
"What would you say if I wiped that little smirk off your face?" Jack sneered, letting go of the other man's collar. "Cut the crap, Chuck, and cut to the chase!"  
  
"Temper, temper," Charles clucked his tongue. "Do you really want more assault charges brought against you, Jack?"  
  
"If it meant wiping that smile off your face, it'd be worth it," Jack muttered, settling back down in his chair.  
  
"She left you your daughters," Chuck finally answered, throwing the papers down on his desk, facing Jack to show him.  
  
"She...she what?" Jack asked, his mind suddenly racing. He picked up the will and skimmed through the parts that mentioned his name, which only involved caring for Hanna and Kate. Not quite believing his eyes, Jack re- read it a second time, and a third time. Finally, the fourth time around, Charles cut in.  
  
"Well, that's it," he said, snatching the will out of Jack's hands and standing up. "You can talk to Stella out front for the forms..."  
  
Charles continued talking, but Jack wasn't listening. He slowly turned towards his daughters, looking them both in their faces. He blinked several times, trying to remember what they had looked like the last time he saw them. Hanna wouldn't even talk to him that final day. Kate, on the other hand, had fallen and scraped her knee, and had been asking him to kiss the boo-boo. Looking down, now, Jack saw his younger daughter's legs through her pantyhose, underneath a skirt of questionable length. No boo- boo's present. "Mental note," Jack thought to himself, eyeing each of their outfits, "Burn their entire wardrobes and have Vivian take them shopping as soon as we return to New York."  
  
"Well," Jack said, as he and his daughters exited Charles Mahoney's office, "I guess it's the three of us now."  
  
Kate and Hanna exchanged an indecipherable look. Jack cleared his throat and smiled.  
  
"So, you guys wanna get some lunch now?" Jack asked, only to have attempt number two shot down.  
  
"Actually, we already have plans with some friends," Hanna interjected, grabbing Kate's wrist and nearly dragging off her sister, who looked helplessly at Jack.  
  
Jack ran after them both, grabbing Hanna's shoulder to stop her from stepping inside the elevator.  
  
"Ok, then go, but here," Jack scribbled out a phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Hanna. "This is my cell phone number. Call me sometime today so we can start planning what's going to be happening these next few weeks." Jack reluctantly took his hand off Hanna's shoulder and smiled at both of his daughters. "You both look really good," he added, touching Kate's cheek with his knuckle. "I've missed you both," Jack said, before giving them one last smile and headed towards the stairs. 


	7. Chapter Seven

"You think he was serious?" Kate asked Hanna, grabbing some french fries off of Hanna's plate and nibbling on them, long after their friends had left the restaurant. "Mom always said that he was more concerned with his career than he was with us, so..." her voice trailed off, while Hanna loudly slurped the end of her milkshake.  
  
"I wouldn't doubt it if he was lying. I mean, think about it," Hanna spat, long-forgotten anger boiling up inside of her once again. "He's stuck with us now!" she cried, flailing her arms in a somewhat hopeless gesture. Kate slowly nodded, thoughtfully chewing the french fries.  
  
"But you're eighteen," Kate finally said, looking up at her older sister. "That's over the legal age to take care of a minor in this state, right?" she asked.  
  
"It's seventeen in New York State," Hanna confirmed. "That's what Charles and I were talking about this morning when we picked you up after your morning exam." Hanna poured some more ketchup on her fries and continued. "Even though mom left him custody of us, we could take him to court and fight."  
  
Kate sighed, tired of courts and judges and lawyers. "Couldn't we just say that you're over seventeen, thus I can stay with you?" she asked hopefully. Hanna shook her head.  
  
"No dice there, Pete," she said, referring to their favorite Badfinger album, finally managing a smile out of Kate. "I asked Charles about that, too, and he said that because dad has a well-paying job and a place to live, etcetera, etcetera, any judge would side with him, thus denying me rights over you," Hanna finished, folding her hands and looking at her sister.  
  
"So you're saying even if we tried to fight him in court..." Kate's voice trailed off, realizing the gravity of their situation, while Hanna nodded, a forlorn expression on her face.  
  
Hanna sighed, propping her head up on her fist, looking Kate dead in the eyes.  
  
"We're caught between a rock and a hard place." 


	8. Chapter Eight

Jack impatiently paced around his hotel room, staring at his silent phone.  
  
"It's already six thirty..." Jack grumbled, "And not a word from either of them yet..." Jack ran his fingers through his thick hair and sat down on the bed, rubbing at his already-throbbing temples. Sighing, Jack pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and re-read it. "665-0990," he silently mouthed, wondering if should take the initiative and call his daughters.  
  
"I mean, come on," Jack chuckled, trying to reason with himself while he paced around the room, "They're both still young, and who the hell do they have staying with them? What if they're home alone?! Now THAT wouldn't be responsible for me to leave them there alone...not even check up on them...would it?" Jack asked his worried reflection in the mirror.  
  
As if on cue, his cell phone suddenly rang out, the shrill sound echoing in the small room.  
  
"Yeah?" Jack spoke into his phone, in an almost demanding tone. The line crackled.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Vivian..." Jack felt his stomach sink to his knees, falling back down on the bed.  
  
"Jack, where are you?" Vivian asked, her voice somewhat concerned. "I tried your home phone all day today and you didn't answer. I even went to your place after lunch to try and find you. Jack, what's going on?"  
  
Jack sighed, rolling his eyes. He knew that he'd have to tell Vivian the truth. Just as he was about to begin talking, Vivian cut him off again.  
  
"Jack, we need you here. Now before you say anything, I know you took a week's leave. Jack, the daughter of Congressman James Jolly just went missing, about 10 hours ago. She's twelve, Jack, and Congressman Jolly specially requested that you work on this case." Vivian paused, while Jack's mind churned.  
  
"Viv, I can be there tomorrow morning," Jack finally replied, rubbing his hands through his hair and down his face, wondering if he could get a U- Haul on such short notice.  
  
"Jack, where are you?" Vivian asked again. After a pause, Jack finally told her.  
  
"I'm in Rochester, Viv," he said, waiting for the inevitable questions.  
  
"Rochester?" Vivian didn't skip a beat. "Isn't that where Maria and the girls live now?" she inquired.  
  
"Well, yes and no," Jack said, sighing. "Look, Viv. I'm gonna level with you...Maria's dead." Vivian gasped, and Jack continued. "She had a heart attack earlier last week, and I had to be here for the reading of the will." Jack stopped, waiting for Vivian to continue.  
  
"Did she leave you anything?" Vivian asked.  
  
"She left me care of the girls," Jack replied. Vivian's end of the phone went quiet for a moment, and when she regained her voice, Jack's cell phone beeped, indicating that there was another call waiting to be picked up.  
  
"Viv—I've got another call. That might be them, and I'm also gonna have to pull something with getting a truck for their clothes." Jack rubbed his eyes while Vivian said her good-byes and finally hung up. Jack flashed his phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi, dad." It was Kate, and she didn't sound very enthusiastic.  
  
"Hi, sweetheart. Um, listen..." Jack began, not sure how to spring it on his daughters that they were leaving for New York that night. "There's been a change of plans and daddy has to go back to New York tonight...and I don't want to leave you two here alone..."  
  
"Aunt Theresa is staying with us, dad," Kate replied.  
  
"...Oh..." Jack said, rubbing his head. "Well...I'd still feel better if you guys came with me tonight," Jack replied. There was a gasp at the other end.  
  
"NOTHING is packed, dad," Kate replied, her voice heating up. "Plus we both still have final exams left. Can you at least wait a week until they're over with? Please?"  
  
Jack bit his knuckle, realizing that he'd forgotten about their schooling.  
  
"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "Well, how long is Aunt Theresa staying with you?" he asked.  
  
"As long as we need," came Kate's reply.  
  
"Well..." As much as Jack hated to admit it, it seemed the smartest thing for him to do was give them a week and then have them shipped off to New York City. "I guess that would give me some time to get a room set up for you guys..." Jack mused aloud. "Well...all right," he finally concluded. "I'll stop over tonight before I leave, ok?" Jack asked.  
  
"Sounds fine," Kate replied. "Bye, dad."  
  
"Bye, Kate," Jack said, hanging up and immediately looking up the number for the airport. This was becoming a very hectic trip. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Ding-dong!  
  
"I'll get it," Hanna insisted, while Kate was washing up before bed, a facial mask on her face and her hair up in a loose bun, while also balancing the phone between her neck and ear, talking with her best friend. It was close to 10:30, and Aunt Theresa was already in bed, and Hanna and Kate were tired from beginning their tedious job of packing.  
  
Hanna pulled the door open, and there stood Jack. He reached his arms out for an embrace, but Hanna just walked away from him, saying behind her, "Follow me."  
  
Jack's arms dropped, and he mentally berated himself, wondering who he was kidding. He followed Hanna upstairs and into a colorfully decorated room in back, where Kate was sitting at a desk, filing her nails and talking about menstrual periods with a phone pressed to her ear. Jack's face pinkened a bit and he quietly knocked on the door, while Hanna slipped away, a smirk on her face.  
  
Kate looked over and smiled, waving at Jack with her nail file, but continuing her conversation about Tampax versus OB. She motioned for Jack to sit down on the bed while she wrapped up her phone conversation.  
  
Jack idly listened to her chatter on and on, while examining her room. There were various trophies and awards scattered around, among other, more "girly" things, like lotions, make-up, and perfumes. Lining the frame of the mirror above Kate's vanity were photographs of friends and family members. There were a few large boxes sitting around on the floor, each about half-full, and from Jack's place on Kate's bed, he could see that her closet was completely empty.  
  
"Mm-hmm...yeah. No, I've never tried that while I'm on my period. No. Well, I don't know, actually," she giggled. "I can ask, if you'd like. HEY, HANNA!" Kate screamed, blowing on her nails and reaching for some clear polish. Hanna appeared, drying her face with a pink towel.  
  
"What do you need?" Hanna asked, a hand on her hip. Kate giggled.  
  
"Val wants to know if you and Kevin ever slept together while you were on your period..."  
  
From the bed, Jack's eyes went wide. Hanna laughed and grabbed the phone, walking out into the hallway with it.  
  
"Oh, I think I need some alone time with Val to answer this one," she sang, closing the door behind her while Kate just giggled again, starting a clear coat on her nails. She finally turned to Jack, smiling at him.  
  
"Hi, dad. What's up?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Uh...uh..." Jack was at a loss for words. His first instinct was to go out into the hallway and hang up the phone, then send both of his daughters to bed. It was almost eleven o'clock, and he was hoping that they would have already been in bed when he got there, just so he could say goodnight and be on his way. The laughter from the hallway broke into his thoughts, and he finally regained his composure.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped, standing up. Kate's eyes clouded over, a befuddled look on her face.  
  
"Huh?" she asked, blowing on her nails again. "What's the problem, dad?"  
  
"You shouldn't be talking about sex like that...you're too young for that shit," Jack said, his voice going up an octave. The door opened again, and Hanna came in, reaching to hand the phone back to Kate. Jack reached over and roughly grabbed the phone, intercepting the phone from Hanna.  
  
"Goodnight, Valerie," Jack abruptly said, hanging up the phone before either daughter could react.  
  
Shaking her head, Hanna grabbed the phone back from Jack, shooting him a nasty look.  
  
"WHAT the hell is your problem?" Hanna asked, handing the now-quiet phone to her sister to place back in its cradle. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she demanded, poking Jack in his chest.  
  
"I don't THINK I'm anything; I KNOW I'm your father!" Jack began, his face turning a shade of pink while Hanna just stared at him, her hands on her hips. "You should both be in bed by now; not talking about sex, of all things, with your girlfriends!" Jack took a deep breath and tried to calm down some. "So come on, girls. Let's get in bed and put all of this behind us..."  
  
Hanna and Kate exchanged a look, then each turned back to face their father.  
  
"Oh, and what gives you the authority to tell US what to do?" Kate asked, raising her eyebrows. "Oh wow, hello random sperm donor...you were never there for us growing up, and when did we even hear from you?! We DIDN'T. Gee, father of the YEAR, ya know?" Kate finished, the sarcastic tone in her voice biting into Jack's last nerve.  
  
But before Jack could shoot back another rebuttal, Theresa came storming in, her eyes bleary and hair unkempt from sleep.  
  
"Jack," she began, her normally soft voice hardened with annoyance. "Why on earth are you screaming at this hour? What is the problem back here?"  
  
"Wha, who, well, they were screaming, too," came Jack's muddled reply. Hanna smirked and turned on her heel, walking into the hallway and towards her room.  
  
"Jack, it's late, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave now." Theresa's firm response was not a request; it was a demand.  
  
"Can't I at least say goodnight to the girls?" Jack asked, feeling as if the ground was slipping out from under his feet.  
  
Theresa's eyes flickered for a moment before she finally sighed and nodded, returning back to the master bedroom. Jack turned towards Kate, who just looked at him, obviously not making the first move towards him.  
  
"Uh...goodnight, Kate," Jack said, reaching towards her for an embrace, which she was quick to push away from.  
  
"Nails are still wet," Kate said, ice crystals forming with each word.  
  
Jack gave his youngest daughter one last look and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him as if it was made out of glass. Taking a deep breath, Jack began walking down the hallway to find where Hanna's room was. At the opposite end of the hallway, Jack found Hanna sitting at her desk in a more toned down room, with cream walls and carpeting. There was a high pile of text books on the desk right next to a notebook laptop computer, which was closed at the moment. Feeling like an ass, Jack gently rapped on the open door with two knuckles, while clearing his through at the same time. Hanna didn't even look up.  
  
"Hanna..." Jack said, stepping into the room. "I didn't mean to blow up back there—"  
  
Hanna whirled around in her swivel chair, cutting Jack off before he even had a chance to apologize.  
  
"Save it for someone who cares," she sneered, glaring at him. "Look, I don't want you here, my sister doesn't want you here, and I KNOW my aunt doesn't want you here, so why don't you just leave?" she finished, turning back around to her textbooks.  
  
"Goodnight," Jack whispered, kissing Hanna on the head before leaving her room, missing the tears that were running down her cheeks. "I love you." 


	10. Chapter Ten

The next week flew by for everyone except Jack. Congressman Jolly's daughter had been recovered in under 24 hours, safe and unharmed, so Jack was able to finish his well-needed, long-awaited week's vacation from work. Unfortunately, the time off was proving to be more stressful for Jack than working could ever have been.  
  
He spoken with Hanna twice on the phone, and each conversation had been very strained on both ends. It was finally decided that they would drive to the city from Rochester that following Friday, the twenty-fifth of May. Jack had insisted that they fly, but Hanna had been firm in telling him that she was driving the Ford Aspire that she shared with Kate. Most of their belongings would be stuffed inside the small white car, but the furniture was scheduled to arrive a day earlier so that it would be there in time for their arrival.  
  
"No way I'm going to have two teenage girls living here with me," Jack sighed late on Wednesday night, wondering how the three of them were going to live comfortably until he could find a bigger place. "Their furniture alone could fill up my whole apartment," he murmured, surveying the small- ish second bedroom with disdain. Jack pursed his lips and headed to the kitchen for what was becoming a somewhat nightly ritual: a drink. He poured himself a small glass of scotch and wondered how Hanna and Kate would fare sharing a room for the first time in almost ten years. "And they're used to their own rooms, so how much is this going to end up costing me?" Jack murmured, idly shaking his drink in a circular motion before taking a swift sip.  
  
Jack took his drink out into the living room and collapsed on his dark green couch, sinking into the soft, old fabric. He was having a hard enough time dealing with the physical aspect of his daughters moving in with him that he hadn't even begun to think about the emotional part of it. Jack took a set his glass down on the end table closest to him and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Who am I kidding?" he said aloud. Judging alone from their last explosive encounter together, his daughters hated him, he was sure of it.  
  
Glancing at the clock, Jack could feel his blood pulsating at his temples and realized that he needed to get to bed soon so he could be up early enough to greet the moving truck. He hoisted himself up off of the couch and finished his drink in one long swallow. He rubbed his back and slowly staggered to the kitchen to put his empty glass in the sink, deciding against a second drink. On his way to his bedroom, Jack stopped by what was to be his daughters' room one last time. "They're going to have one hell of a time getting all their shit crammed in here," Jack said, shaking his head one last time at the bare bedroom. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

The next morning, Jack was awakened by the insistent buzzing of the delivery men with Hannah's and Kate's furniture. Glaring at the digital clock on his bedside table, Jack hoisted himself out of bed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. It was nine o'clock. He cupped his hand over his mouth and breathed into his hand, almost gagging at the smell that immediately enveloped him. Stepping into the bathroom, Jack swished some Scope around and spit, rubbing at his face with the heels of his hands.  
  
Jack stumbled over to the door, buzzing the delivery men up into his apartment. After giving them some general direction as to how the room was to be laid out, Jack disappeared into the small kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Collapsing into a chair, Jack put his head into his hands and tried to ignore the incessant bumps and thumps coming from the adjacent room, where they were attempting to bunk the girls' beds. Jack knew that his daughters probably wouldn't be too happy about bunking, but there was no way they'd be able to fit two beds, two dresses, and two desks into that small room otherwise. As it was, one of their desks had to go into the living room already. Another crash from the room next door. Jack winced and poured himself a cup of coffee in an old chipped mug, when suddenly the phone rang.  
  
"Malone," he answered, mechanically.  
  
"Jack?" The line crackled with the smallest bit of static. At the sound of that voice so familiar, yet so forgotten, Jack's brain crackled with some static, too. "Jack, it's Samantha."  
  
Without a word, Jack fell back into his chair, stunned.  
  
"Are you there, Jack?" Samantha asked, the tiniest hint of desperation in her voice, undetectable to Jack.  
  
"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm here," Jack answered, obvious surprise brimming in his voice. "I'm just, uh, surprised to hear from you, Sam. How've you been?" He couldn't stop the small smile that was threatening to break out onto his face, nor the butterflies that began fluttering around his insides.  
  
"I'm good, Jack. How have you been?" There was an almost uncomfortable pause between her statements, as if she was weighing her words carefully.  
  
"Things have been a little hectic around here lately," Jack said, with absolutely no desire to get into the Maria-children saga he was currently suffering through. "But, uh, what's up? Why did you call?" he asked, curiosity finally sinking in.  
  
"Well, I'm in town for a few days, making sure everything is set with the hall and the synagogue," Samantha explained.  
  
"Synagogue?" Jack asked, rubbing his temples. "You're not Jewish!" he exclaimed, trying not to laugh.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Samantha said shortly. "But I-I love him, so I guess I really don't mind, and he's not a very religious man, so it's just for the wedding, and—"  
  
"Sam!" Jack finally cut in, stopping her runaway train of thought. "It's ok. I was just asking," he finished, a smile still on his lips. He cracked the kitchen door, peeking in to make sure that the movers weren't having any problems, as he hadn't heard any crashes or curse words in several minutes. Satisfied, Jack returned to his chair and took a sip of his coffee.  
  
"Well, the reason I'm calling is because I was wondering if you wanted to do lunch today," Samantha finally said, cutting straight to the chase.  
  
Her request almost sounded defensive, Jack mused. He glanced at the clock on the microwave and saw that it was quarter after ten. He realized that he still had to shower sometime after the movers finished which would probably be soon, considering the lack of noise coming from the other room.  
  
"We could do lunch," Jack said, trying to sound as casual and unenthused as possible. "You wanna meet up at noon?"  
  
"Sounds great," Samantha said, she, too, trying to sound indifferent. "Uh, where should I meet you?" she asked.  
  
"You have to ask?" Jack said, a mock tone of surprise in his voice. "Meet me at Nancy's," he replied, referring to their old meeting place.  
  
"O-okay," Samantha replied, trying not to sound flustered. She hadn't been expecting that.  
  
"Great," Jack answered, signing the form that one of the delivery men had given him. "Thank you," Jack said to him, showing them to the door. "By the way, Sam," Jack began, peeking into the bedroom and nodding with approval when he saw the setup. "How did you know to call me at home?" he asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.  
  
"I, uh, already called the office," Samantha confessed. "Vivian told me you took the week off," she replied.  
  
"Oh," Jack replied, smiling. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then," he said, stepping back into the kitchen to finish his coffee before he showered.  
  
"Yeah, I'll see you at noon," Samantha said before hanging up, leaving Jack with a whole new situation to deal with.  
  
"As if my plate wasn't already full enough," Jack said to his coffee mug, shaking his head. "She probably just needs closure before marrying Mister Body Part," Jack said aloud, trying to snuff out the small flame he felt burning in the pit of his stomach. Finishing his coffee with a brisk swallow, Jack set his mug down with such force on the old table top that it shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving just the handle in his hand. 


End file.
